


The Wheel Is Come Full Circle

by White_Squirrel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adopted Children, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Canon Compliant, F/M, Gen, HP: Epilogue Compliant, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Post-Canon, Post-War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-07 03:41:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14072127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Squirrel/pseuds/White_Squirrel
Summary: Hermione goes to Australia to bring her parent home and gets a big surprise. It turns out her Memory Charm wasn’t enough to fill the hole in their lives. Now, she has a new sister who will be starting at Hogwarts as she returns for her seventh year and deals with the aftermath of the war. Epilogue-compliant.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all, including the Epilogue, whether you like it or not.
> 
> The opening line is quoted from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
> 
> Yes, I’m using Daniel and Emma as Hermione’s parents’ names in an Epilogue-compliant fic. That’s because I want them to be the same across all of my stories. If JK Rowling ever tells us their real names, I’ll start using them in any new stories. I know some people dislike it, but I really appreciate how fanon is able to come to a (partial) consensus on things that weren’t in the books, so I’m sticking to it.
> 
> It’s odd considering all of the anguish I’ve poured into Hermione’s hardships in the Arithmancer series, but I think this chapter was the most emotional one I’ve ever written.
> 
> This is the first of my ongoing stories that is currently inactive. I may post new chapters from time to time as the inspiration strikes, but for the most part, I just wanted to post the initial chapters I had to get everything out there. This particular story may become more active in the near future, though, so keep an eye out.

_“That wand’s more trouble that it’s worth,” said Harry. “And quite honestly, I’ve had enough trouble for a lifetime.”_

“Now, just a minute, Harry,” Hermione cut in. “I’m sorry for the bad timing, but weren’t you still planning on becoming an Auror?”

“Er…I guess, maybe,” Harry said in confusion.

“Well, don’t you think that an Auror is an _extremely bad_ career choice for the master of the Elder Wand?”

“Huh?” Harry and Ron said in unison.

“Honestly, Harry. Aurors get disarmed all the time—definitely in training and probably in the field, too. Who knows where the Elder Wand could wind up?”

“Actually, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore’s portrait said kindly, “that may not be such a serious problem. In my investigations, I found that the Elder Wand is only passed on between living owners if it is taken with intent to keep and use it, not to merely disarm an opponent. And of course, the peacetime death rate for Aurors is negligible.”

“Oh. That’s not so bad, then,” Harry said optimistically.

“Well, I suppose not,” Hermione conceded. “Except that you just announced that you’re the master of the Elder Wand to the entire wizarding world…but in that case, it’s probably _better_ if you’re a trained Auror…And it means one other thing.”

“What’s that?”

“It means you can’t give Malfoy his wand back.”

* * *

That was only the first of many complications. The first two days after the battle were a haze of laughter, tears, and troubled sleep. Stories were told and retold until the tellers were sick of it because it took a while just for anything to sink in properly.

To Harry, Ron, and Hermione, it was odd and a little jarring to hear from the people who had spent the last eight months at Hogwarts, especially the younger students. In some ways, the war had not been as hard at Hogwarts as it was for the rest of the country. True, there were three Death Eaters on staff, the castle was surrounded by dementors (again), and detentions could involve Unforgivable Curses, but even for the sixth- and seventh-years, most of whom were either Dumbledore’s Army or Death Eaters in training, life went on day to day. Most of the teachers continued teaching normally, and the only changes to the curriculum were Dark Arts and Muggle Studies.

At the same time, it seemed odd to many of the survivors that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had got off relatively easy at the very end—not that they resented them for it: those last, harrowing twenty-four hours more than made up for it. Still, even though the three of them had been on high alert for months, running around in the wilderness, and camping out as far from civilisation as possible, they hadn’t been in that many fights, and for the past month, they had been safe and sound, recovering in Shell Cottage under _Fidelius_ , while the students at Hogwarts and most of the witches and wizards in the country were still living in terror day in and day out.

In the end, they counted it as a wash. Everyone was far too familiar by now with the horrors of war.

Since the castle was still half in ruins after the battle, the rest of the term was cancelled, and the school was closed for repairs. No graduation ceremony would be held for the Class of 1998. Once the Ministry was back up and running, they announced that the Wizarding Examinations Authority would be open all summer so that students could sit O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams whenever they wished—and they needed that time to study, since a lot of the D.A. weren’t trying very hard on their homework that year. It was awfully soon to be thinking of such things, but exams were still technically slated to begin on the first of June, so something needed to be done.

Most of the time, though, was taken up by beginning the rebuilding process and making arrangements. After all, there were fifty-four bodies to bury for the Light Side alone.

It had taken Hermione a week after the battle for her to seriously think about her parents again. She was just getting over her nightmares about her time in Malfoy Manor when the final battle dredged them all back up and added a whole bunch of new ones besides, so she was a little preoccupied. It still hurt, what she’d done to them. She’d been suppressing her guilt over it for nearly a year, but now, it came back, and there was little that could distract her from it. She wanted to get them back as soon as possible, but at the same time, she was scared. Would they be angry at her for modifying their memories? Very probably. She wasn’t sure she could face them like that after everything else that had happened.

Ginny had disabused her of that notion with a hard slap across the face and some choice words fuelled by barely-contained grief over losing Fred. There was _nothing_ , she said, more important than family. That had been enough motivation to book five plane tickets from London to Sydney with a stopover in Singapore for two weeks hence. Britain was under an ICW ban on international Portkey travel that would probably take all summer to lift, so they had to go muggle.

Deciding who would go had been an awkward conversation, especially so soon. Hermione desperately wanted Ron to come with her, but she worried about how both his parents and hers would react to the two of them travelling alone. Harry immediately volunteered to go with her either way, but that carried its own problems. For one thing, it would be very awkward if it was just the two of them, since they were both trying to (re-)start a relationship with someone else. For another, even though he was legally of age in the magical world, under muggle law, Harry was still a minor until the thirty-first of July and technically under the Dursleys’ guardianship.

Fortunately, Dedalus Diggle and Hestia Jones were still alive and were able to take them to the safe house. The Dursleys were very unhappy to see Harry (except for Dudley), but they were certainly relieved that the evil wizard was gone for good and had no problem signing custody over to Arthur on the spot.

The last problem was Ginny. She was only sixteen, and neither of her parents wanted her to go. (They would rather Ron didn’t go, either, but they couldn’t stop him.) Harry’s and Ginny’s “break-up” had been a sham, and they both knew it, even if they refused to admit it until after the fact. Once the dust had cleared, they wanted to pick up where they left off. Really, they were so afraid of losing any more than they had that they could hardly bear to be apart. And four hormonal teenagers travelling to the far side of world on their own in a “muggle contraption” was too much for Molly’s nerves. Even though three of them had been travelling alone for months already. Mothers were like that. And most of the “responsible adults” who would have been open to going with them either were dead or couldn’t be spared from the rebuilding.

After much arguing and some tears when George made the mistake of suggesting he could go, it was decided that Charlie was responsible enough to chaperon the four of them, and the trip was set for as soon as they felt they could reasonably get away. Harry paid for the tickets, to which everyone else reluctantly agreed. Hermione would have gone alone if she’d had to, but her surrogate family insisted she shouldn’t be on her own at a time like this.

* * *

Of course, when Harry tried to pay for the plane tickets, they ran into another snag. The trio had, after all, just robbed Gringotts. It was lucky Kingsley thought of that before they just walked in. The goblins were technically a sovereign nation with a very tough penal code. If they’d caught any of the three inside the bank, it could have sparked a new goblin war.

It took nearly a week for Kingsley and President Ragnok to reach an agreement, and in the end, it was a pretty one-sided one. Harry, Ron, and Hermione would have to pay for all of the repairs to Gringotts as well as a hefty punitive fine for “breach of contract,” and they would have to explain to the goblins exactly how they’d done it so they could close the holes in the security. Also, they had to return what was left of Hufflepuff’s Cup to Bellatrix Lestrange’s next of kin, Narcissa Malfoy, along with heavy restitution to her both for stealing it and for damaging it.

The deal only worked because Harry volunteered to pay everything for all three of them. It drained most of his inheritance from Sirius, but it didn’t touch the Potter Vault, and since the alternative was being banned from Gringotts, losing everything, and being _de facto_ shut out of the magical economy, it was still a pretty good deal.

* * *

“You’re sure this is safe?” Ron said nervously when he saw the aeroplane.

“Yes, Ron,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes as she took her boyfriend by the arm and led him to the air bridge. “It’s much safer than driving, in fact.”

“But this thing looks like a flying tin can.”

“Shh!” She leaned closer and whispered, “Honestly, Ron, _you_ flew an enchanted _car_ across country at age twelve, and we flew on a blind _dragon_ a few weeks ago. You’re worried about an aeroplane?”

“But those were normal magic,” he whispered back. “Even Dad doesn’t get how aeroplanes fly.”

Hermione sighed: “Ronald, I hate to break it to you, but your dad approaches muggle studies with hard work, unbridled enthusiasm, and an utter lack of native talent.”

“Oi! Don’t talk about my dad…eh, you’re kind of right,” he admitted.

* * *

The flight was exhausting—lasting a full day with the one connection, and they landed a day and a half later by the clock. By the time they got through customs, it was mid-afternoon, and they were all thoroughly jet-lagged.

“Oh God, how to muggles handle that all the time?” Charlie complained once they got off. “No room to move around, and it was too loud the whole time—and that’s _me_ saying that.”

“My lips are chapped,” Ginny said. “How are my lips chapped? We weren’t even outside.”

“The air’s extremely dry at thirty-five thousand feet,” Hermione said.

Ron groaned as he rolled his shoulders and worked a crick out of his neck. “Thank Merlin for Cushioning Charms,” he said. “Those seats are really uncomfortable. I could barely sleep with them.”

“That was reckless, Ron,” Hermione scolded. “Using magic around muggles in such a crowded place.”

“Hey, I got away with it, didn’t I?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, but she smiled a little at his antics. “Well, you all can rest up at a hotel while I go talk to my parents.”

“How are you going to find them?” Harry asked. “Send them an owl and follow it?”

“Of course not,” she said. “Do you think I’d make that kind of mistake? I made them magically Untraceable before they left.”

“Untraceable?” Ron said. “How’re you gonna find them, then? Is there a muggle way?”

“There’s the phone directory…” Harry said. “Except you don’t know what city they’re in.”

“No, not the phone directory,” she said. “Or not by itself. I have a way the Death Eaters would never, _ever_ think of.”

“What?”

Hermione grinned at them: “The directory of the Australian Dental Association.”

It took all of fifteen minutes for Hermione to find a telephone box, ring the ADA’s headquarters, and ask for the address of the practice of Wendell and Monica Wilkins. She was sure they were still practising. She’d made sure their records were good, and they had few other marketable skills. As it happened, they were practising in Sydney, and their home address was in the phone directory as well, so she could’ve shortcut that step, but either way, it worked. An hour later, Ginny and the boys were settling in at a hotel, and Hermione went off to find her parents before dinner.

“Are you sure you don’t want any of us to come with you?” Ginny said

“Yeah, you said it was gonna be tough,” Ron agreed.

“I’m sure. I need to do this part alone. Plus, I don’t think showing up with a boyfriend when I restore my parents’ memories would give the right impression.”

Ginny giggled, and Ron grimaced a little. He’d been trying not to think too much about the meeting-his-girlfriend’s-father bit of this. Charlie clapped him on the back and said, “You asked for it, Ronniekins.”

Hermione found the Wilkinses’ home in about half an hour by taxi. It was larger than their home in England (lower property values out here)—a sprawling ranch-style house instead of a tall, angular Victorian. She stood motionless across the street, staring at it. Nothing about the place looked familiar—not the home, not the car, not even the name on the mailbox. It might as well have been a complete stranger’s home, which was, after all, the idea.

Pushing aside her fears, she walked up to the front door and, before she could talk herself out of it, rang the doorbell.

The door opened, and Hermione froze in shock. Standing there was not her mother or her father, but a little girl of ten or eleven with bushy brown hair.

“G’day, ma’am,” the girl said in an Australian accent.

Hermione just stared. The girl’s eyes were blue, and she was more tanned, and her face wasn’t quite as round as Hermione’s had been at that age, but the similarity was obvious.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” she asked. “D’you need help?”

“H-h-hello…” Hermione said shakily. “I-I’m looking for…W-Wendell and Monica Wilkins?”

“Just a moment, please,” the girl said politely before she turned and rushed into the house, calling, “Mum! Dad! There’s a lady at the door askin’ for you.”

Hermione felt a pang in her chest. _Mum? Dad?_ she thought. _What happened in the past year?_ Her shock only grew worse when the girl’s parents came to the door— _her_ parents. Mum had grown her hair out again, and Dad had lost a bit more of his, but that was them. She felt faint.

“Hello, can we help—are you alright, miss?” Mum said worriedly. Her accent was still British.

“I-I-I’m f-fine, Mu—er, m-ma’am,” she stammered. “I’m just…it’s been a long day, and I was surprised b-by…” She glanced at the girl again. “…and I’m suddenly feeling very… _very_ foolish…”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Mum said. “Perhaps you should come in and sit down?”

Hermione nodded mutely and let her parents escort her inside, where she sat heavily in the nearest armchair. Distantly, she was surprised her parents were being so open with a complete stranger. Perhaps it was a subconscious recognition, or perhaps it was the fact that as an eighteen-year-old girl in clear distress and with no obvious place to carry a weapon, she didn’t look threatening. It was odd to think of herself as non-threatening—to think of herself as something other than a soldier. But if she was lucky, she would never have to be one again.

The little girl sat curled up on the sofa. She had a book in front of her, but she wasn’t reading it. Instead, she was staring at Hermione in confusion, as if she were a puzzle to be solved.

Unable to restrain herself, Hermione said, “Excuse me, but…is she yours?”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t she be?” Mum said.

“Well, you don’t—you didn’t…er, when I looked you up, I was told you didn’t have any children.”

The girl’s eyebrows shot up. She had clearly become a good deal more confused. Dad furrowed his brow and spoke up for the first time: “You’re from England, aren’t you?”

Hermione nodded. The accent should be obvious.

“How did you find us?”

“Um…through your old office,” she lied. “It’s a long story. I’m sorry; I was just curious.”

“Oh, it’s quite alright, Miss…” Mum started.

“Oh, pardon me—Granger, ma’am. Hermione Granger.”

They didn’t show any recognition at her name, which was good, she supposed. It meant she had done a good job. But God, it hurt to see her parents looking at her like a total stranger.

“Well, Miss Granger, we adopted Cordelia a few months ago.”

Hermione coughed violently. “C-Cordelia?” she choked out.

“Yes.”

“You’re joking.”

“Excuse me!” Cordelia said in a huff.

“Oh! Er…I’m s-sorry…again,” Hermione managed. “It’s just that I…I don’t think I’ve met anyone else with such a Shakespearean name before. It’s…um, it’s a very pretty name.”

“We think it’s delightful,” Dad said with a smile.

“Yes, when we found Cordelia, it was like she filled in a piece of our lives that had been missing for…heaven knows how long,” Mum added, and Cordelia beamed at her.

 _I know how long,_ Hermione thought darkly. _Where did they even_ find _this kid?_ She felt so stupid. She should have realised something like this would happen. She’d been the centre of her parents’ lives for so long, she could block out their memories, but they would still feel her absence. She’d tried to make them think they were a happily childless couple, but they’d probably agonised for weeks instead over why they had gone so long without ever trying to have children. And then they looked and found a girl who looked so like a younger Hermione. _But they really do love her, don_ _’t they?_ she thought. _I can see it in their eyes._ _Oh, God, what is this going to do to_ her _? They replaced me with her, and they didn_ _’t even know it._

“Are you alright, Miss Granger?” Dad asked.

“Just…just reminiscing. I told you, it’s been a long day.”

“Well, we’re sorry you’re having a difficult time, but we _would_ like to know why you’re here.”

“Oh, right…” She bit her lip. This was just about the one situation she’d never expected. It was almost enough to make her consider walking away and leaving them be. Almost. “Alright, there’s no easy way to say this…” she started. Then she took a deep breath and said, “I’m a witch.”

“What?” Mum and Dad said.

Hermione skipped over the talking and drew a small stick with an ivy-pattern carving from her sleeve. “This is a magic wand,” she said. She was so glad she’d been able to find her own wand again, intact in Malfoy Manor. She never could’ve kept using Bellatrix’s.

“A magic wand?” Dad said skeptically.

“Mm hmm.” She looked around and chose a small lamp on the side table. Wordlessly, she flicked her wand, and it rose into the air. Another flick, and it transformed into a white dove and flapped around the room.

“Holy—!”

“Oh my God! That’s—!”

“Magic…” Cordelia whispered.

“It’s…it’s…magic…” Dad said as the dove came to rest back on the side table. Another flick of her wand, and Hermione changed it back into a lamp.

All three of the Wilkinses were now trembling in their seats. Hermione looked between them and blushed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Okay,” Mum said shakily. “So you’re a…a witch. And…and magic is real, apparently. But…why are you here?”

“Because…” Hermione bit back tears. “Because I’m not just any witch…I’m also your daughter.”

“What?!” Mum and Dad exclaimed.

But Cordelia’s eyes widened, and she looked back and forth between the stranger and her adoptive parents. “You look like them,” she said softly, and they all turned to stare at her. “You have Mum’s hair, and…her nose and cheekbones. And you have Dad’s eyes and mouth…You _are_ their daughter aren’t you? Their…their _real_ daughter?”

_Oh God, she_ _’s smart, too._

“No, that’s impossible!” Dad said. “We never had any children before you, Cordelia.”

“Yes, I’m sure this is just a very strange misunderstanding,” Mum agreed. “Even you have my hair, after all, Cordelia.”

“And why is that, Mum?” the little girl demanded. “You were looking for someone who looked like her—?”

“Cordelia!” Hermione interrupted before she could take it any further. Best to head this off early. She stood from her chair and dropped down on one knee in front of her. “Cordelia, it’s not their fault. It’s mine. But this is only going to get weirder, so I need you to understand this before anything else happens. I can tell your parents— _our_ parents love you.” Mum and Dad, who looked about to interfere, stopped and waited to hear what she had to say. “Believe me, I’ve known them my whole life. It’s plain as day,” she continued. “And that’s not a lie. Magic can’t fake real love, no matter how hard you try. That’s one of the most important rules for magic.

“In fact, a very wise wizard once told me that love is the most powerful form of magic in the world. I know I’ve screwed up in a lot of ways, but what the three of you have—everything that’s made you a…a family these past few months—it’s real, and nothing can take that away from you. Okay?”

Cordelia had to wipe her eyes, but she nodded. Hermione was tearing up, herself. She was surprised how accepting the girl was being, but she supposed when someone turns a lamp into a bird in front of you, you pay attention.

“And as for me,” she said, “I can already see what Mum and Dad see in you. You’re a bright little girl, polite, and—well, you _are_ a lot like I was at your age. To tell you the truth, I was always a little lonely growing up as an only child, so even though this happened by accident, I’d love to have you as a little sister.”

Cordelia’s eyes widened: “You would?”

“Of course I would. Besides, you’re already family, and I certainly can’t take that back.”

Hermione thought Cordelia might hug her, but she didn’t get to find out because Dad coughed and drew her attention. “Miss Granger…” he said, searching for words, “that’s very kind of you to say, but the fact remains that we don’t remember ever having another child, even if we’d given her up for adoption—”

“I know you don’t, Dad,” Hermione said. She had to take another deep breath. Here came the hard part. “But do you have gaps in your memories? Parts of your lives that don’t make sense, going back eighteen or nineteen years?”

“I…” Dad said, and he stopped, confusion creeping over his face as things that didn’t add up, which he had long dismissed came to the fore again.

“I remember being laid up sick and really anti-social for a year or so around then,” Mum said slowly. “I…I stopped working full-time for several years, and I can’t for the life of me remember why.”

Hermione smiled weakly. “That would be when you were pregnant with me and when I was a baby,” she said. “And you’ll have years and years of gaps for school events and trips to the library and a strange fixation with Disney movies. I’m sure all that makes much more sense if you had a daughter, too.”

“But why don’t we remember it?” Dad demanded. “Was it some kind of magic?”

“Yes, it was. But please bear with me and let me explain what happened…There was a war going in Britain—a shadow war in the magical world—between the Ministry of Magic—the government—and…well, I guess in non-magical terms, you’d call the enemy a terrorist militia. The…the terrorists were especially after witches and wizards with no magical ancestry—people like me. Things were getting worse and worse, and about a year ago, we lost our last line of defence. By then…” she blinked back tears once again. “It was too dangerous. I knew it was only a matter of weeks before they staged a coup and took over the Ministry of Magic. I had to get you to safety. I was…I was too deep into it. My best friend—my friend from long before the war started—was the leader of the Resistance—long story. They would’ve been after all of us.”

“You… _you_ erased our memories?” Mum said in horror.

“No, Mum! No, I…suppressed them. Your memories are still there. I just have to unlock them again. Oh God, you’re going to hate me. I knew you’d hate me for what I did, but I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do something to keep you safe. You were completely defenceless without magic, and—”

“Excuse me,” Mum interrupted. “Miss Granger—er…Hermione…What exactly did you _do?_ ”

“I created false identities for you. Your…your real names are Daniel and Emma Granger. Sorry, maybe I should have said that earlier. I created false identities for you as Wendell and Monica Wilkins, a happily-childless couple with a sudden urge to move to Australia. But I was worried you’d slip up even if I could convince you to go, and I was worried they’d find you, even in Australia. So I modified your memories to make you think you _were_ them. I promised myself I’d come and get you back as soon as the war was over—and I did. It ended three weeks ago, and I came for you as soon as I could manage it…We won.”

“So you can reverse it?” Dad clarified.

“Of course I can! I’d never do anything permanent to you.”

“And do we get a choice?” he said. “Cause if that… _that_ —” He pointed to the lamp. “—is any indication, you could just wave that stick of yours and _do_ it, couldn’t you?”

Hermione didn’t know how she kept from breaking down completely, then. She’d known, intellectually, that there was a chance her parents wouldn’t want to go back, but she hadn’t dared let herself think about it. “I c-could…” she choked out, “but I won’t…If you’re r-really happy h-here…with Cordelia, then I’ll leave. It’ll…it’ll nearly kill me to do it, but I will…B-b-but I promise I’m telling the truth, and I want you back—all th-three of you. I’d make any magical vow I had to to prove it, but you wouldn’t know enough to know the significance of it—”

“Now, now, there’s no need for that, Hermione,” Mum cut in. She stood up and rested a hand on her shoulder. “We believe you.” She shot a look at Dad to make sure he agreed. “That bit with the lamp was convincing enough—and we can’t deny that we _do_ look a lot alike. Although if you really mean all that, I think you’re a much better daughter than we deserve.”

Hermione let out a half-laugh, half-sob. She was the one who didn’t deserve them in her book. “No I’m not…” she cried. “Please…Please, just let me…”

“Alright. Alright. As long as you meant what you said about Cordelia—about…wanting her to be a part of your— _our_ family—then I’m sure we’ll be overjoyed to have you back, too.” She backed up and stood beside Dad. “So you can just do it, then?”

She nodded. “Thank you,” Hermione whispered. “Please don’t be frightened, Cordelia.” She raised her wand at the pair and cast, _“Memento Veracia.”_

Mum and Dad suddenly seized up, and their eyes rolled back as eighteen years’ worth of memories reasserted themselves.

“Mum! Dad!” Cordelia yelled.

“They’ll be fine,” Hermione said. “It might just take a minute…”

Cordelia looked uneasy, but she waited, and about half a minute later, they both slumped forward, taking deep breaths. They looked up, blinking to focus, and then, their eyes widened, and Daniel and Emma Granger stared at their daughter as if they had been aware the whole time of not seeing her for a year.

“Oh, God! Hermione!” they both cried, and Mum bowled her over so hard that they both landed on the floor. And Hermione finally broke down in sobs in her arms.

Dad quickly joined them on the floor, hugging her tight while Hermione cried, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I can’t believe it’s been so long,” Mum cried into Hermione’s hair.

“I’m so, so sorry…”

“It’s alright, Hermione. It’s going to be alright.”

“No…No it’s not…” she whimpered. “I lied to you. I’ve been lying to you for years. The war started long before last year. I nearly died four times at school alone, and that’s not counting the battle there.”

Cordelia squeaked in surprise, but Mum and Dad just held Hermione tighter as they struggled to process anything at the moment.

“Hermione,” Mum said. “Hermione, whatever it is, we’ll get through it. You said this war was over, didn’t you?” She nodded. “Then no matter what it is, we’ll work it out. You’re back, and that’s all that matters.”

The three of them kept crying as Cordelia approached, moved to tears herself by the display. “So it’s all true, then?” she whispered.

Mum nodded, and then something seemed to click in her mind. Her head snapped up with wide eyes. “Oh my God!” she gasped.

“What?!” the others said.

“Cordelia!”

Dad looked up, and his eyes widened, too: “Oh my God, Cordelia!”

“What?! What is it?!” she said fearfully.

“You’re a witch!” Mum exclaimed.

“WHAT?!” Hermione yelled in unison with her new sister.

“All of those strange things that happen around you? They were accidental magic.”

“I did magic?”

“Of course you did,” Dad said, ticking off on his fingers. “Books jumping off the shelves and into your hands, the time you fell down the stairs and bounced clear to the sofa, the time you got so mad at Billy Harper at school you turned his hair pink—”

“That was me?”

“Of course it was. Once you’ve raised one witch, you can see it a mile away.”

Cordelia was shocked. “But—but I can’t be a witch,” she sputtered. “I’m just…Cordelia.”

Hermione laughed, wiping a tear from her eye. “Oh, ‘just Cordelia.’ Do you know what? I have a friend who thought he was ‘just Harry’ until he saved the world—several times. Here, give my wand a wave and see what happens.”

She held her wand out, handle first. Cordelia took it in hand nervously and waved it. A few electric blue sparks shot out of the tip, and Hermione grinned.

“That’s it! You’re magical! Oh, you’ll be able to do a lot more once you get your own wand—” And then she broke down, laughing so hard she found herself flat on her back and unable to breathe. This was karma, she was sure of it. Her laughter was infectious and started the rest of her family going.

“Hermione—Hermione, _what_ is so funny?” Dad said.

“You!” she gasped. “This! This is just too much. I can believe you went and adopted a little girl. I can believe you found one with my hair and my brains. I can even believe you found one with a Shakespearean name. But then she turned out to be a witch, too? That’s insane! The odds of that are astronomical. Oh, come here.” Hermione called to her new sister, who was still standing at a distance, watching nervously. She pulled her into a hug and stroked her hair just like Mum used to do to her, trying to assure her she really was a part of the family. “I guess it’s true, what Luna said: things have a way of coming back to us—just not the way we expect. So how old are you, Corrie?”

“I’ll be eleven on the thirty-first,” she said. “And don’t call me Corrie.”

Hermione giggled. “Oh, this is wonderful! Do you know what this means?”

“What?”

“It means we can go to magic school together this autumn.”

Cordelia looked up at her and wrinkled her nose. “The same school you nearly died in four times?” she questioned.

Wow, she really was a quick one. “Yes, but all four of those were because of the terrorists, and they’re all gone now. We made sure they’re gone for good this time. And if the school’s rebuilt come September—”

“Wait a minute,” Mum said. “Shouldn’t you have graduated, Hermione? And what do you mean, rebuilt?”

She shook her head: “I didn’t go back for my seventh year. It was too dangerous. With the Death Eaters in charge, I was a fugitive. I’ll be going back for my seventh year in September. Assuming it’s rebuilt by then. It was kind of in ruins when I left.”

“Oh, we are going to have a _long_ talk about this, I can tell,” Dad said in his stern voice.

“ _But_ I think that can wait for another day,” Mum cut him off. “For tonight, we can just be happy you’re alright. What about your friends? Did they make it through? Harry? Ron? His family? That Luna girl and, what was his name? Neville?”

Hermione was pleased that her parents remembered her friends so clearly, but she still turned solemn. “We lost a lot of good people,” she said. “Ron’s brother Fred died. The rest of his family made it, though. Harry, Luna, and Neville are alright, too. Actually, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Charlie are back at the hotel. But we lost a lot of others. Professor Dumbledore died a year ago. That’s what started the whole thing. Professor Lupin and his wife. Harry’s a newly minted godfather of their little boy, and he doesn’t have a clue what to do with an infant. We lost Professor Babbling, too, and Professor Snape—we didn’t know until after, but he was on our side the whole time. And also…also more students than I want to think about…” Mum wrapped her arms around her again, and Hermione collected herself and said, “but anyway, that’s all over now, so we can go back…that is…if you want to go back?”

Mum and Dad looked at each other questioningly, and at both of their children. Finally, Dad replied. “Australia’s never really felt right to us. You were the best thing about it, Cordelia. We really don’t have any roots here. But this is a decision we need to make as a family—all _four_ of us.”

Cordelia squealed and hugged her parents. Even though she was technically a ‘replacement’ of sorts, at least she could be sure that she was still loved and wanted. She looked at Hermione and asked, “What’s the magic school like in…in England?”

“Scotland. And Hogwarts. It’s called Hogwarts,” she said with a smile. “And it’s probably the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. It’s in the Highlands, up on a mountain between a loch and a forest. It’s in this massive medieval castle filled with moving staircases and talking paintings and all kinds of magic everywhere.”

“Crikey! That sounds…it sounds wonderful.”

“Yes, it is,” Hermione said wistfully. “But…I looked into it, and there _is_ a school of magic here in Australia, too. Out in the Outback, and I’m sure it’s very nice. But Hogwarts…despite everything that’s happened there, I love that place, and I’d love for you to come see it with me.”

Cordelia considered this and slowly said, “Well…I do like Australia…but I only remember living in foster care here, so I don’t have many roots either…Do you think we could visit both schools and check them out? I want to be sure to go to the best school.”

Hermione laughed and hugged her again. “Cordelia, if I didn’t know better, I’d say we were related by blood,” she said. “I can make it happen. Powerful people owe me favours back home. Now, since my friends are here with me, we were wondering if you’d like to come to dinner. I told them we might prefer to just have family bonding time, but—”

“We’d be delighted,” Mum said. “We haven’t seen any of your friends in so long. We’ll have plenty of time for bonding after.”

“Great! Thank you so much. I just need to contact Harry.” Hermione picked herself off the floor and pulled a gold coin from her pocket. She tapped out a message on it with her wand: _I GOT THEM—COMING TO DINNER—PLEASE CALL AND ADD 1 TO RESERVATION._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Time shall unfold what plighted JK Rowling hides.

The newly-reunited Granger Family waited as long as they could before going on to dinner. Dan and Emma wanted the full story of what was going on in the magical world, but since that would mean going all the way back to first year, that was easier said than done. Hermione had told them about the war before she sent them away, but she had downplayed it and especially her own role in it. And meanwhile, Cordelia wanted to know everything about magic. Hermione still carried her beaded bag everywhere with her like a security blanket, so she fished out her copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ to give her. But while her new sister was very bright, she seemed more interested in the practical side of magic, and she was especially excited when Hermione mentioned flying on broomsticks.

“You mean witches _actually_ fly on brooms?” she said. “Is it lots of fun? Do you go everywhere that way?”

“Whoa, slow down, Cordelia,” Hermione cut her off. “Honestly, I don’t really care for flying. I can do it if I need to, but I’m not that good, and I prefer to stay on the ground.”

“What?” Cordelia gasped. “But how could you not like it? It’s _flying!_ ”

“Trust me, it’s not as fun as it sounds when you’re sitting on an enchanted stick moving at high speeds with no safety equipment. And the other methods of flying aren’t much better.”

“What other methods have you tried?” Emma asked suspiciously.

“Oh, hippogriff—that’s half horse, half eagle; thestral—an invisible winged horse; and dragon.”

“Dragon?!” her family said. Cordelia was excited. Her parents weren’t.

“Long story. I suppose a flying carpet wouldn’t be too bad, but they’re embargoed in Britain thanks to the broomstick lobby. But against a broomstick, give me a muggle aeroplane any day.”

“Muggle?” Cordelia asked.

“Non-magical,” Hermione and Emma said in unison, then looked at each other and laughed.

Cordelia just stared. This was by far the strangest day of her life. It was like flipping a switch, how her adoptive parents were suddenly talking about magic as if it had been second-nature to them for years—which of course it had. And it was even harder to believe that she had magic powers herself despite Hermione’s wand producing sparks for her. Granted, it did explain a few things.

 _But seriously,_ she thought, _wizards had trade embargoes?_

“Don’t you need a broom to get around, though, if witches don’t have planes?” she asked.

“Oh, no,” Hermione said. “We have three different methods of teleportation. That’s how we get around most of the time.”

“Three?”

“Four if you count Dumbledore’s phoenix. They all work in different situations, though. It’s a bit of a patchwork system, but we’ve rarely had problems with it.” _Well, besides Ron getting splinched, and Harry being kidnapped to resurrect Voldemort, and Harry coming out the wrong Floo when he was twelve_ _…okay, maybe I’m being optimistic._

Hermione soon wound up having to explain about Apparition, Portkeys, the Floo Network, the Knight Bus and the Hogwarts Express, and why each was needed, which meant she had to think a lot more about them than she ever had herself. Why _did_ they have so many overlapping modes of transportation? It was true, muggles had cars, including taxis, plus busses and trains, but wizards didn’t need expensive hardware to get around.

“Apparition is like driving, except you can’t go anywhere you haven’t been before,” she reasoned. “And it’s not generally intended for passengers. Ironically, the Knight Bus acts more like a taxi service, and the Floo is probably the closest to a bus network. Portkeys serve more of the role of trains, although we do use actual trains to move large numbers of people.” The system still seemed pretty redundant, she thought, but at least there was _some_ logic to it.

To get to the restaurant, however, magic wouldn’t help them, so amid the many questions, Hermione told them the address and they drove over. She had chosen what looked like a high-end restaurant in the phone directory, since this was supposed to be a celebratory reunion. The place turned out to be a fusion restaurant that offered everything from barbecue to curry, which was agreeable enough to everyone, and her friends had already found a table when the Grangers arrived and waved to them.

“Hey, Hermione,” Harry greeted her. “Glad to see you found them.”

“Who’s the kid?” Ron asked.

“Ron, Harry, Ginny, Charlie, these are my parents,” she said. “I think most of you have met them. And I’d like to introduce you to Cordelia Wilkins, soon to be Cordelia Granger…my sister.”

Their jaws dropped to the floor.

“No. Bloody. Way!” Ron exclaimed. “No bloody way! Seven years, and you never told us you have a little sister?”

“Well, I didn’t know until tonight, Ron,” she replied. “My parents adopted her here in Australia.”

The group looked in surprise between the two girls, who really did look like they could be blood sisters, trying to process this revelation. “Wow,” Ginny said. “So…you didn’t modify their memories quite as well as you thought.”

The Grangers all winced at the reminder, but Hermione said, “Apparently not, but that’s not the wildest part. Cordelia’s a witch. If she likes Hogwarts, she’ll be joining us there for her first year in September.”

“Are you kidding us?” said Charlie. “But how? The odds of that have to be…”

“Really small,” she confirmed. “Insanely small. I blame karma.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Ginny said. “You have a sister now? Who’s going to start at Hogwarts this autumn?”

“We’re going to look at the Australian school first before we decide,” Emma cautioned.

“But you have to come to Hogwarts!” Ginny said excitedly. “We’ll have so much fun there!”

Cordelia stayed back and looked at Hermione with a clear _Who is this?_ look on her face. Hermione coughed for Ginny to calm down to and turned to her parents. “Mum, Dad, I think I should reintroduce you since Cordelia doesn’t know anyone here.” She walked around and grabbed Ron by the arm to pull him up beside her. “This is Ron Weasley…my boyfriend.”

Dan’s and Emma’s eyes widened, and they both gave Ron a very appraising look. “When did this happen?” Emma demanded.

“The night of the battle. Just a few weeks ago. Of course, we’ve been friends for years. We were just both too thick to admit it until now…and I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to talk about that later. Anyway, this is Ron’s older brother, Charlie.” She motioned to the stockier man. “He works as a dragon handler in Romania.” That made Cordelia very excited. “Cordelia, this is Ron’s sister, Ginny. She’s a year behind us in school. And _this_ is Ginny’s boyfriend and my friend for many years, Harry Potter, the Saviour of the Wizarding World.”

“Don’t. Just don’t, Hermione,” he said.

“Who really doesn’t like to be called that,” she added with a grin.

“I know you don’t like it, Harry, but you’re never really gonna be able to escape it,” Ginny said.

“We’re in _Australia_ , Ginny,” he insisted. “I can escape it in Australia.”

“Um, I think we missed something here,” Dan said.

Charlie laughed. “Harry’s the one who finally beat You-Know-Who, Mr. Granger,” he said as he rose to shake their hands.

“Sort of,” Harry said.

“Basically,” Hermione agreed.

“I get the feeling it’s a bit more complicated than that,” Emma said.

Harry nodded. “It is, Mrs. Granger. The short version is that Dumbledore only had half a plan to beat Voldemort. He was trying to put the rest of the pieces together, but he…he got this terminal disease, and he didn’t have time to finish it. So he had to rely on me to do it.”

“Why you? Why not…you know, _anyone else?_ ”

“There was a prophecy that Harry would do it,” Hermione said. “What worries me more is how he expected Harry to actually win. Honestly, we got really lucky. When Harry duelled Voldemort, he only won because of some convoluted plan of Dumbledore’s that only makes less and less sense the more I think about it.”

“Well, it wasn’t _that_ bad, Hermione,” Harry said. “Dumbledore had that plan for years. It just had some complications to it.”

“But if Snape hadn’t been _incredibly_ lucky to get those memories to you before he died—”

 _“Okay!”_ Ron interrupted. “You lot can argue later. We’re supposed to be celebrating you getting your family back, Mione, so let’s eat.”

“Er, right, sorry,” Hermione said, blushing.

Dan and Emma smiled at their daughter. It was good to see this war of hers hadn’t changed her _too_ much. “It’s good to meet all of you again,” Dan said.

“You too,” Ginny said. “So did everything go okay—you know, at the house?”

The Grangers exchanged some uncomfortable glances. “Better than I expected,” Hermione said.

“We decided to wait until tomorrow to discuss everything,” Emma told her.

“That’s good. The most important thing is getting back together as a family.”

“I quite agree, Ginny,” Emma agreed.

They ordered their food, taking their cues from Dan, Emma, and Cordelia on what to get. Hermione was more familiar with Indian food than her friends, but it had been a long time since she’d had it with the wizarding world being so behind the times. Her parents seemed to be settling back into their old lives well enough, while Cordelia was clearly still bursting with questions. Hermione just hoped things would stay lighthearted tonight.

“So where’d the kid come from?” Ron asked.

Charlie snickered: “Well, Ron, when a mummy and a daddy love each other very much—”

Ron punched him in the arm. “Not that, you dolt.”

“I was as surprised as you are, Ron,” Hermione said. “I almost thought I’d found the wrong house. I’d just walked up and rang the bell, and then _this_ little sheila answered the door.”

Suddenly, Cordelia burst out laughing. Dan and Emma snickered, too.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“Hermione,” Cordelia said teasingly, “no one under thirty says ‘sheila’ anymore.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Afraid not, Hermione,” said Emma. “It surprised us too.”

“Oh…well, anyway, I really should have known,” Hermione explained. “It’s obvious when you know how the brain works. You can’t just erase someone who’s been a part of a person’s life for eighteen years without leaving a big hole. And for my parents, the way to fill that hole was to adopt a child. It’s not like they were replacing me, if you’re worried about that…well, they didn’t _know_ they were replacing me. And honestly, I think I’m going to like having a sister.”

“Yeah? You say that _now_ —OW!” Ron said, and Ginny smacked him in the arm.

“So what’s it like at Hogwarts?” Cordelia asked.

Hermione, Harry, and all the Weasleys present exchanged uncomfortable looks. They would rather not discuss this until tomorrow, but the story was going to come out sooner or later. “Well…you have to understand, our experience wasn’t exactly typical…” Hermione started. She told Cordelia the story of how Professor McGonagall had come to deliver her first Hogwarts letter, how she’d been in awe at the new world of magic and so eager to start learning it. After all these years, even her view of her lonely first two months at Hogwarts was a pretty rosy one. However, the story quickly began to take a darker tone with, “But there was a giant three-headed guard dog behind it.”

Cordelia gasped. “What was it doing there?” she said.

“Yes, what _was_ it doing there,” asked Emma. “I don’t remember you telling us about that.”

Hermione shook her head: “Back then, I was still too scared of getting in trouble for breaking the rules to mention it. We had no idea why it was there. I was the only one who noticed it was standing on a trapdoor, so I knew there must be _some_ reason—”

“Because only Hermione would be paying attention to its feet and not its heads,” Ron cut in affectionately.

“Yes, of course, Ron. Anyway, I wanted nothing more to do with it after that—”

Ron mimicked her eleven-year-old voice: “We all could have been killed—or worse, expelled.”

Everyone but Hermione laughed. “I did not sound like that,” she said.

“Yes, you did,” Ron, Harry, and Ginny said in unison.

“You weren’t even there, Ginny,” she glared at the younger girl.

“You have to admit, it is kind of funny,” Dan said.

Hermione muttered something that sounded like, “Never live it down.”

“So how did you become friends with them if you didn’t like them?” said Cordelia.

“Yes, well, that happened the first time I nearly got killed,” she said uncomfortably. “And that one was completely not my fault. I had no idea there was a mountain troll in the castle.”

“Is that like the trolls that live under bridges?” asked Cordelia.

“Worse. It was twelve feet tall, built like a gorilla, carried a club, and stank like a manure pile.”

“Crikey! What was _that_ doing there?”

“Our evil teacher of the year let it in,” said Ron.

“Your…wait, what?”

Harry sighed and explained, “The Defence Against the Dark Arts job was cursed by Voldemort so that no one could hold it for more than a year. Something bad would always happen to them; most of them turned out to be evil.”

“But the curse is gone now that Voldemort’s dead,” Hermione clarified.

“You can curse a teaching post?” Dan said.

“ _Why_ would you curse a teaching post?” asked Emma.

“Because Dumbledore wouldn’t give him the job when he wanted it,” Harry said.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Harry,” she muttered. “That was clearly just a pretence,” she told them. “He probably did it to keep his enemies weak.”

“Well, there’s that,” Harry said.

“Okay…so…your evil teacher let a giant monster into the castle…” Dan got them back on track.

“Giant is a relative term, but yes,” Hermione said. She quickly described how she had been cornered by the troll in the bathroom (glossing over _why_ she had been in there) and how Ron and Harry had saved her. Her parents were naturally horrified, but Cordelia, though a little scared, was mostly in awe.

“That’s…quite a story,” Dan said. “And I have a bad feeling it’s going to get worse.” He turned to Ron: “I know it’s a bit belated, but thank you for saving our daughter.”

Ron grinned: “Best decision I ever made, Mr. Granger.”

Hermione thought Ron had a few other moments that ranked close, but she didn’t press the issue. “So, I hope you aren’t starting to get scared of Hogwarts now?” she asked her new sister.

“Not really,” Cordelia said. “That one was just a wild animal. This is Australia. All the animals want to kill you here.”

She chuckled: “Unfortunately, that’s true of the magical world, too.”

“Oh, it’ll be just like home, then,” she replied cheerfully. Dan and Emma laughed nervously.

Hermione shook her head and smiled: “Cordelia, I don’t think you know what you’re getting into.”

Cordelia put one hand on her hip and answered, “Please, we have nine of the world’s ten deadliest snakes in this country.”

“Yes, but we have snakes that can kill you with their _eyes_.”

Cordelia didn’t back down: “And the world’s deadliest spiders.”

“Trust me, they have nothing on ours.”

“Oh, yeah? Have you seen the huntsman spiders? They’re the size of a _dinner plate_.” Ron squeaked in fear, and Cordelia giggled. “Aw, your boyfriend’s arachnophobic, Hermione?”

“Yes!” Ron exclaimed.

“Cordelia, be nice,” Hermione said.

“C’mon, mate,” Harry said. “The acromantulas were way worse.”

“Ugh, now _those_ were bad,” Ginny agreed. “I only had to face them once in the battle, and I still get creeped out by them.”

“Do I want to known what an acromantula is?” asked Dan.

Hermione took a deep breath. “You know those giant spiders in _The Hobbit?_ Basically that. They can grow bigger than a _car_.”

“Crikey!” Cordelia squeaked. “Well…well…we have the saltwater crocodile.”

“Do you remember the part where I rode a fire-breathing dragon?” she asked.

Cordelia opened her mouth, closed it, then crossed her arms: “Okay, you win.”

Dan and Emma laughed. “Well, it looks like we know how to pick them,” Emma said. “Cordelia’s just as competitive as Hermione always was.”

“You can say that again,” Dan agreed. “So what happened after the—the troll thing? I remember you giving us an overview of your first year, but I think you downplayed most of what really happened.”

“Well, to be fair, that was the most danger I was personally in that year,” Hermione said.

Harry and Ron stared at her, their mouths gaping.

“It’s true,” she insisted. “For all the trouble we got in that year, that was the only time I actually got to the point of staring death in the face. Harry, you were the one nearly getting killed all the time. Remember? The very next week, Quirrell tried to throw you off your broom at the…Actually, why don’t all you sports fiends explain to Cordelia about Quidditch?” she said with a grin.

The Weasleys all grinned back and launched into spirited rhapsodising about the wonders of Quidditch, complete with a hodge-podge explanation of the actual rules, long commentaries on why the Chudley Cannons sucked and why the Holyhead Harpies were the best, and betting on who would win in a Seeker duel between Harry and Charlie.

And unfortunately for Hermione, Cordelia’s respond when they were finally done was, “Wow! Quidditch is awesome!”

Hermione’s head dropped to the table with a thud. “I’m surrounded!” she cried.

“Hey, you’re dating into this family,” Ginny said. “This is what you get.”

“Is it too late to dump Ron for Justin Finch-Fletchley?” she groaned.

“Yep, you’re stuck with me,” Ron said. He started to put his arm around her, but quickly backed off at a glare from Dan.

“So anyway,” Hermione continued. “At the first Quidditch match, Quirrell tried to curse Harry off his broom.”

“Yeah, except you thought it was Snape and set him on fire,” Ron jumped in.

“Ron!”

“You set a teacher on fire?” Emma gasped.

“Just his robe. He wasn’t hurt. And he really _did_ look like he was cursing Harry.”

“I’m sure,” she replied dryly. “And why was this Quirrell trying to kill you, Harry?”

“Well, he was possessed by Voldemort—long story,” Harry said.

It took some time, but they eventually explained everything that happened during Hermione’s first year at Hogwarts—including the fun things, too, for Cordelia’s sake. The younger girl was dealing with all of this remarkably well, Hermione thought, although the near-death experiences and Quirrell’s two-faced appearance as Volemort’s puppet still freaked her out. Dan and Emma were likewise very unhappy, although they were pleased with Hermione’s conviction to support her friends and her quick thinking, and particularly, she was sure, the fact that she stayed out of the actual fight.

“Wow, that’s quite a story,” Dan said when they were done.

“Yeah, and that was only first year,” Harry said.

“My God,” Emma said. “If we’d known what the magical world was like when that Professor McGonagall showed up at our door—”

Hermione winced at the implication. If she’d never joined the magical world she couldn’t help but think her life would be a lot poorer for it. To her surprise, though, Charlie was the one who spoke up in her defence. “Don’t be too hard on her, Mr. and Mrs. Granger,” he said. “It really was better that she went to Hogwarts. Even leaving aside the fact that the Ministry wouldn’t allow a magical child to go uneducated, Hermione learnt to defend herself there, despite the lousy teaching. Without that, she would have been a sitting duck when the Death Eaters came to call—and they _would_. If she’d stayed at home—or maybe even if she’d gone to Beauxbatons if she wasn’t paying attention—the Death Eaters would have found her name in the Book when they took over the school, and they would have come to kill all of you.”

Dan and Emma looked at each other nervously, and then at Hermione and Cordelia. Cordelia really was looking scared now. “Sorry,” Dan said. “This is just a lot to take in. Before…er, the last we knew about it, I mean, we barely even knew there was fighting going on. We never imagined it was this bad.”

Hermione squeezed Cordelia’s hand. “Hey, are you doing okay there?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah,” she said softly. “It’s just worse than I expected. But it’s over now, right?”

“Yes. A few bad guys still running around, but they know they can’t do anything. It’s safe enough that they’re rebuilding, and we were good to travel openly.”

“That’s good then.”

“We’re definitely glad it’s over,” Dan agreed. “So…you said you nearly died four times at school, Hermione,” he reminded her. “Do we want to know how many brushes with death you had in this war out of school?”

“Probably not,” she answered.

There was silence for a minute. “Will you tell us anyway?” he asked.

Hermione sighed and began counting on her fingers. Her parents were worried as she filled out her first hand and appalled when she continued on her other one. She paused on her last finger and said, “Ten…? I’m going with ten.”

“ _So!_ Who wants to hear about dragon wrangling?” Charlie jumped in.

* * *

Charlie had definitely saved the dinner. Further discussing Hermione’s time at Hogwarts had clearly become too heavy a topic for their celebration. By the end of the night, the Grangers were pretty well immersed in the wonder of the magical world thanks to his tales. Reluctantly, they split up, then, Hermione returning to the hotel, since her luggage was there. Her parents _did_ have a guest room, but she kind of wanted to ease back into it, and she didn’t think she could handle any more questions that night.

The next morning, Hermione returned to the “Wilkinses’” house early. _This_ was when she really needed to fess up. The four of them sat around the living room to hear Hermione tell the story of her next five years at Hogwarts and her past year on the run. Dan and Emma were a little uncomfortable letting Cordelia stick around to listen, but Hermione insisted.

“She’s old enough to handle it,” she said firmly. “Besides, when we get back, it’ll still probably be all anyone is talking about.”

Thus, Hermione began to tell her story: Dobby’s warning to Harry (this led to her attempting to give a balanced explanation about what house elves were), him and Ron flying a car to school, Lockhart, the voices, the attacks, the Duelling Club, eventually figuring out the basilisk and being petrified herself, and Harry and Ron seeking out the acromantulas and finally defeating the basilisk down in the Chamber of Secrets. She glossed over some things, like Lockhart’s use of Memory Charms and just how bad getting petrified was, and she left out her illegal brewing of Polyjuice Potion entirely.

Then, there was Sirius Black, the dementors, learning about Harry’s past, and the debacle that was the night in the Shrieking Shack. She had to fudge that story even more because she’d never told her parents about the Time Turner (a decision she’d debated every time she saw them for three years afterwards).

Fourth year started with the Quidditch World Cup and the Death Eater attack, which was one of the few things her parents _did_ know about, although she had downplayed it at the time. She told them about the Triwizard Tournament, Harry’s selection, the dragon, and the Yule Ball. She was surprised, though perhaps she shouldn’t have been, when her being put in the Lake for the second task made her parents furious above everything else. They were talking about suing and considering criminal charges before she calmed them down enough to continue her story. She did note that three of the five organisers of the Tournament were dead, and a fourth had resigned in disgrace, which partially placated them.

The third task, of course, led to Voldemort’s return, which then led into the part that made Hermione herself the most furious, which was pretty much her entire fifth year: from the dementor attack on Harry to his hearing to every single thing Umbridge did, along with Dumbledore’s Army, the attack on Mr. Weasley, and eventually the raid on the Department of Mysteries, Sirius’s death, and the curse injury that she had passed off to them as a magical illness at the time. Her parents were pretty angry at her for actively charging into danger like that, but they could at least admit they were proud of her for protecting her friends.

Sixth year was relatively quiet inside Hogwarts until the Death Eater attack, but after Dumbledore’s death…well, suffice it to say, it took a lot of effort and tears to get through the story of the rest of the war. When she was finally done, and her parents and sister were coherent enough to continue the conversation, she braced herself for the grilling she knew she was going to receive from the start.

“Alright, Hermione,” Dan said. “We’ve heard your story. Now, the most important question we have for you is, why didn’t you tell us any of this?”

Hermione took a deep breath and told them the answer she had prepared: “When the troll happened, I thought it was just an isolated incident. Maybe I should’ve told you about it, but I was afraid you’d overreact and try to pull me out of school just when I’d finally made some friends. I know it was silly now, but I was only twelve, and anyway, I had no reason to think it would happen again.

“When Harry’s broom was cursed in the first Quidditch match a week later, I thought it was just a specific teacher with a specific grudge against him. I didn’t think they were related.” Well, that was a bit of a stretch, but she certainly didn’t think Snape would come after her. “Until I learnt the truth at the end of the year, I had no idea I’d made an enemy of a powerful dark wizard.

“Second year, with the basilisk, I was bloody scared—excuse me. I don’t think I ever let on how scared I was, but I was still a foolhardy thirteen-year-old Gryffindor, and I thought I could solve the mystery on my own, and then I wouldn’t have to worry about it. And actually, I kind of did, but by then, it was too late. But still, Harry killed the basilisk, so I thought the danger had passed.

“I _did_ tell you what was going on in third year—with the dementors and Sirius and all—except for the very end. We all thought the Ministry security would be enough, and even after it wasn’t, I thought the danger had passed again. So I…so I didn’t tell you because I was still scared you’d overreact and pull me out of school.”

“Do you really think it would’ve been overreacting at that point?” Dad said, and Cordelia agreed with a snort.

“Well, not now, in hindsight, but considering I thought the danger was over then…”

“Okay, I can admit I can see the logic on those things, Hermione,” Mum said, “but what about after that?”

Hermione shivered a little: “Everything that happened after that was because of Voldemort and the war. I decided from the start that I was going to stand by my friends and fight with them, because they didn’t have the choice to walk away, even if I did. Everything I did after that—” She blinked back tears. “It hurt me so much to do it—but everything I did after that I thought was the best thing I could do at the time. I know I wasn’t even sixteen. I’m sure your horrified that I’d enlist myself in a war at all, let alone so young. But I had to do what I thought was right and not what was easy.” She remembered the old, Goody Two-Shoes Hermione lying to a teacher all of two months into first year to protect the boys who had saved her. “In a way, I think I always have. And I know I didn’t always get it right, but I tried. Every single time.”

“And wiping our memories?” Dad asked sternly.

“Dad, Mum, that was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” she said, trying haltingly tried to get through her explanation. “I knew it was a terrible thing to do, but I couldn’t think of any other way to keep you safe while still giving Harry the help he needed. It was too dangerous for all three of us to stay in Britain. It was far too late to do anything about that. It was probably too late the day Professor McGonagal showed up at our house. The thing is, I had magic and you didn’t. You couldn’t have protected yourselves. Trust me on that. With Dumbledore gone, there was no safe place to hide you, and I couldn’t be around all the time to protect you. I was terrified I would lose you. I was terrified all through my sixth year, more than I ever told anyone. I had classmates whose parents were murdered in sixth year while they were at school, and they _did_ have magic.

“And I know you’re going to say I should have gone with you, but I told you, I had to stay for Harry and Ron. And actually, it was a lot bigger than just them, although they would have been enough. Dumbledore had a plan to defeat Voldemort, and that plan needed me _personally_. And yes, it was a pretty bad plan if it relied on three teenagers, but there was a prophecy involved, and we were all trapped by it. They needed _me_. If I’d left, it would have been abandoning the whole country to Wizard-Hitler—an _immortal_ Wizard-Hitler with no prospects for being taken down by other countries and no assurances that he wouldn’t take over the rest of the world sooner or later.

“Mum, Dad, you didn’t know half of this stuff then. You’ve had some distance now, in a strange way. Can you honestly tell me, if I’d sprung this on you a year ago when the war was still going on, that you would have willingly left the country if I’d stayed behind?”

She looked up to see her parents faces, and as much as they might not want to admit it, it was clear their answer was no. “Look, I feel terrible about what I did,” she said. “It still makes me sick to think about it, but looking back, I can’t say that I would have done it any differently…Please, can you forgive me?”

Without hesitating, Mum stood up, came over and hugged her. “Hermione, of course we forgive you,” she said. “Did you know Charlie talked to us in private last night after you went back to the hotel?” Hermione shook her head, although she wasn’t surprised, and she was definitely grateful. “He explained some things to us,” Mum continued, “and after that, your father and I had a long talk, and, while we disagree strongly with what you did, we understand why you did it. We’re just happy to have you back, now…Just never, _ever_ do that again.”

“I won’t, Mum. I promise,” she said.

“Good. You know, as…as messed-up as this was, at the end of the day, from what Charlie told us, if you hadn’t done it, we wouldn’t be here today, one way or another. And we certainly wouldn’t have Cordelia in our lives. So we truly do thank you for that.”

Hermione smiled a little and snuggled closer into Mum’s shoulder. They sat there for a while as she cried it out. When she finally felt that her family drama was resolved, she was able to turn her thoughts to the future.

“So Cordelia,” she said, “after all of that, I’ll understand if you don’t want to go to Hogwarts…”

But Cordelia smiled. “It’s fine. I’m not worried,” she said. “You said it was over, didn’t you? I trust you.”

Hermione grinned: “Oh? Realising what a brilliant big sister you have already?”

“Brilliant? I don’t know about that.” the younger girl said teasingly.

“Oh? Why not?”

“Well, for one, Charlie’s much better-looking than Ron.”

_“Cordelia!”_


End file.
